


Darling, if you only knew

by some_stars



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/pseuds/some_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck's pretty sure Kurt doesn't want rose petals. (Contains <b>no</b> actual rape/non-con/dubcon, but has an explicit, consensual description of a rape fantasy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling, if you only knew

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is set in an AU that diverges after season one, primarily in the following specifics: Finn and Carole moved back in with the Hummels after 1x22, Puck never went to juvie, and most importantly, the worsened bullying/sexual harassment/transfer storyline **never happened.** (That part is crucial, because otherwise this story would be kind of horrible.) Any other changes or things that haven't changed, as well as all the backstory leading up to this(which nearly became a whole separate prequel but I couldn't be bothered), should become clear while reading.
> 
> 2\. Title is from "Fantasy" by Mariah Carey. I AM NOT ASHAMED. ...that's a lie, I'm totally ashamed.
> 
> 3\. Originally posted [here](http://lcsbanana.livejournal.com/2028795.html).

It's not that Puck doesn't love sex. He loves it like it's his one calling in life. Hell, he loved it when it was kind of his job, even if he doesn't do that anymore. And he loves sex with dudes, too, or Kurt anyway, since it's not like Puck's been with any other guys, and even if he's reaching a point where he can acknowledge the occasional thought about not-Kurt guys without freaking out like he used to, it's not something he actually wants to do. Plus Kurt would have his balls.

(They're not officially exclusive or anything, but Puck's pretty sure Kurt is the jealous type.)

So, yeah, Puck loves sex. The whole thing, handjobs and blowjobs and fucking(and maybe, once, getting fucked, but that's still a little too weird to think about when he's not actively jerking off to the memory). He's even developed a stupid thing for just rubbing off on Kurt--even through their clothes, like they were dumbass thirteen-year-olds or something--because it turns out Kurt really _really_ gets off on Puck just pinning him down, all heavy and solid on top of him so Kurt can't even move, and holding his arms down. His face and throat go so red and his eyes practically glaze over, and he makes these noises like nothing Puck's ever heard from a chick, like each sound is twisting out of him and ripping him open and he can't hold them back no matter how hard he tries. It's way too fucking hot.

Still, even if Puck is getting it, like, daily from Kurt, and it's mind-blowingly awesome, he's a regular seventeen-year-old guy, and he gets ideas. Especially now that they've been doing it for a few months, and on the one hand it's amazing the way he's getting to figure Kurt out--and vice versa, too--the ways his body works and how to get him off fast and how to get him off so slow he starts threatening Puck's life. It makes the sex even more awesome, and it makes Puck feel--well, it makes him feel shit. Like, feelings. Whatever.

But he wants to know other things too. He gets ideas, and he's pretty sure Kurt does too because _everyone_ does, right? Puck sees it sometimes when they're having sex or making out or sometimes just when they accidentally touch at school. (Accidentally because, sure, it's not like everyone doesn't know what they're up to, but they don't go around holding hands or anything. Puck tried a couple times, early on, since it seemed like something he should at least offer, but Kurt got all tense and weird and they just don't.)

It's this quick little flash of his eyes like he's about to say something, but he never does. And the more it happens, the more Puck wants to _know._ Maybe tell Kurt some of the things he thinks about, too. He used to get up to all kinds of kinky shit with Santana last year--back when they were on-off dating and on-on hooking up, before Puck got his shit together for Quinn and definitely before all of _that_ went straight to hell again.

Santana was a complete freak in the sheets, and it became kind of an ongoing contest between them, competing to see who could get the other one off the hardest with the most out-there ideas. She loved using her handcuffs on him, and showed him how to use her sex toys on her, and one time let him tie her spread-eagle on her (awesome, huge) bed and go down on her until he actually managed to make her beg. She'd made him pay for that one hard, of course, cuffed and blindfolded him and teased him for nearly an entire hour--there'd been ice cubes involved at some point, it kind of all blurred together--which he knew because he looked at the clock afterwards, when he could see straight again.

(There'd been some experiments that didn't work out so well. Like, a little sexy spanking turned out fine--he could hardly blame her for wanting to slap that fine ass, after all, and he was always happy to get his hands on hers--but then Santana had brought out an actual fucking riding crop. When he'd asked where the hell she'd even gotten it, she'd just said something about Brittany going through an obsessive horse phase in fourth grade. She'd hit him with it once, without even asking first and fucking _hard_ , and he'd actually felt his boner shrivel as his junk tried to crawl up inside his body. Plus he'd screamed like a girl, and Santana had laughed at him, because she was a real bitch.)

Puck gets ideas, but these days they're pretty much entirely about Kurt, and he's got a feeling that pausing a make-out session to whip out, say, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold and a vibrator (which he lifted from Santana's place last year, after that one time she used it on his dick and made him come so hard he hit his own fucking face) wouldn't get the kind of reaction he's hoping for. Kurt's not the kind of guy you spring things on.

He's kind of a control freak, to be honest, and it's not like Puck doesn't get why--hell, not two years ago guys like Puck (but not him, he thinks, he's almost sure) would've done the naked-handcuffed-blindfolded thing as just another prank, except they'd do it in a school bathroom or out by the dumpsters or something, not in someone's bedroom. And they probably wouldn't follow it up by sucking Kurt's dick until he screamed.

Puck hasn't been one of those guys for a long time now--more than a year--and Kurt hasn't flinched from him in almost as long, and he knows Kurt trusts him now. He works for it, more than he likes to think about. Because, fuck it, spending three months having sex with the same guy--hanging out with the same guy, actually going out on things that would be dates if they weren't _so not dates_ , not cheating even once, getting his head so messed up that he starts to think about "cheating" like it's a concept that could even apply to him--that shit's weird enough without sitting down and examining his _feelings_ about Kurt, and what he used to do to Kurt, and how maybe the way Kurt is now is a little bit Puck's fault. Just, no way.

The point is, Puck realizes pretty soon that if he wants to get Kurt to agree to any freaky stuff--if he wants Kurt to show him any of those things Kurt never lets himself say out loud--they're going to have to talk about it. And, well, talking about sex fantasies doesn't really count as talking about feelings, right? Not unless they're the kind of fantasies where you make tender love in front of a fireplace on a bed covered in rose petals and confess undying love to each other, and while Kurt may be the girliest guy anyone in Ohio has ever seen, he's still a _guy._ Puck's pretty sure Kurt doesn't want rose petals.

So, fine. They'll have the conversation, and it won't be too lame. Probably it'll be totally hot. Because, come on, who wouldn't want to get their hot dirty fantasy talk on with Puck? He's a sexting _master,_ and this can't be too different.

The answer, it turns out, is Kurt. Kurt doesn't want to. He doesn't want to talk about it at all.

Puck's set it up pretty well. He waits for a night when they're not just hooking up, when they go out first on a not-date and get burgers (well, Puck gets a burger, Kurt gets a salad and picks off the cheese and only uses half the dressing) and it's weirdly nice out, for a Lima mid-November, so they even eat in the freaking park. It's a little past sunset so there's no kids running around, and Kurt can lean up against him and talk about whatever and time his bitchiest (and funniest) comments for when Puck takes a drink of his soda, like he gets some kind of high score whenever he manages to make Puck choke from laughing, and seriously--if it wasn't not a date, it would be _such a fucking date._

(But it's not.)

They go back to Puck's place after, like always, and start fooling around, like always, and Puck deliberately pulls away when they're still mostly just kissing, before things get heavy and neither of them will want to stop. He leans back against the bed, gets a hand on Kurt's lower back and pulls him closer so he's kind of sprawled over Puck's lap, looking up at Puck curiously. Maybe a little carefully, but mostly just curious.

"You ever have any fantasies?" Puck says. It comes out just like he wants--a little rough and sexy, but not too pushy. Not like he's maybe _too_ interested. He feels Kurt tense under his hand, though, and that's...not a great start.

"I assume you don't mean the ones where I get my first starring Broadway role less than a year out of school, win twelve Tonys, and sell the rights to my memoirs for tens of millions of dollars?"

"Not really what I was going for," Puck says, "but way to dream big, dude."

"Also Rachel Berry is third understudy for the chorus," Kurt says. That first look on his face, the flash of trapped-animal watchfulness, is fading. He's trying to distract Puck. Yeah, good luck with that.

"I mean, you know, sex fantasies. Stuff you want to do. Or whatever you think about when you're jerking off, that kind of thing."

The tension's back, although Kurt's not moving away or anything. Puck can see the blush starting on his cheekbones, not the all-over red stain he gets when he's about to come or he's begging for it harder or something, but the slow pink blush that means he's actually embarrassed. The one Puck doesn't see much these days except at school, with other people around.

It should make him back off, or at least worry about what he's doing. But, fuck, he's interested now. They've been all up in each other in every way, he's had his dick up Kurt's ass and Kurt's come in his mouth, and Kurt's heard probably more than he ever wanted to about the kind of shit Puck got up to with Santana and other girls, so what the hell could Kurt be wanting that has him actually _embarrassed?_

"When I'm jerking off?" Kurt repeats. It sounds really good when he says it, like he's carefully shaping his mouth around the words. "I think about having sex. Mostly with you, though that depends on whether there was a new episode of the Vampire Diaries last night."

"Ha," Puck crows, "I _knew_ you were into kinky shit!" Not that he digs the whole goth/neck-biting thing himself, but it's a chink in the armor. He is so in.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "For your information, when I imagine having sex with Ian Somerhalder, he's never in character at the time." He eyes Puck. "Seriously, don't start wearing plastic fangs or anything. Unless you want to try stealing Tina from Mike, which plan I would refuse to help you strategize, by the way."

Puck's got no idea who that Summer-whatsit guy is, but he does know that Kurt's still trying to distract him, and he's overplaying his hand like crazy. Which isn't like Kurt at all. So, forget the vampire thing, but maybe Puck's got an in after all.

If the head-on approach makes Kurt lock up, he'll try finesse. Puck _rocks_ at finesse. Even if he only knows the word because Kurt kept bitching at him to learn some.

Shows what he knows.

Puck pulls Kurt a little closer--not quite kissing distance, but Kurt's pretty much laid out on top of him now, elbows on either side of Puck's ribcage--and starts rubbing slow circles on Kurt's back. "You want to know what I think about when I'm jerking off?"

He watches Kurt's tongue dart out to lick his lips--which are opened just a little, now--as his eyes get that tiny bit wider. "If you feel like sharing," Kurt says. His voice is completely steady, but that's fine, Puck's just getting started.

The selection's important, now. It's got to be for real, of course, because Kurt will know in a second if he makes something up. It's got to be about Kurt because, well, Puck's not an idiot. And it's got to be--the point is to get Kurt talking, right? To get him so he's not too uptight and embarrassed (or afraid and ashamed, afraid of Puck and ashamed of himself, but that's not--Puck can't think about that shit, can't even let himself notice that he sees it) to talk about the hot freaky fantasies he's got to have after all those years of repression and not getting any.

To make him open up, and just like always, Puck has to make the first move. So yeah, he pretty much knows right then what it's going to have to be.

It's not like every word of it won't be true anyway.

Puck slides the hand on Kurt's back up under his shirt, feeling skin. "I think about letting you fuck me again," he says. Suddenly he can hear his blood pounding in his head, making his voice sound sort of distant. "How hot it was last time, when you got your fingers in me and it started out weird but then it was so good I wanted to fucking beg you for more."

Kurt says, "oh," very quietly. His mouth is open and his eyes are just-- _staring_. Like the first time he saw Puck's dick, after they'd spent days jerking each other off and grinding and trying to keep quiet and hidden, never really getting a chance to look. He's staring like he's seeing something new, something he wanted so hard but never expected at all. And Puck's pretty sure he could get answers out of Kurt now, his work is done, but that look makes him want to keep talking. Just...because.

"I was thinking I could be on my back, next time," he says. "The way I like to do you. Hold my legs back for you so you could get in, after you've been fingering me for like, forever, until I'm about to come. But you." He closes his eyes. "You'd tell me not to, so I wouldn't."

Kurt's moving up his body, close enough now that Puck can feel his breath on his face. His hard-on is nudging right up against Puck, and it's not like he hadn't known Kurt would get off on this, but feeling it right there all hot and real is--fuck. It's not reassuring. Puck doesn't need to be fucking reassured that his dirty talk is hot, not by Kurt or anybody. And he doesn't need to keep this up, either, because hey, objective achieved, example set, Kurt will tell him whatever he wants to hear, so he can just. He can stop.

Kurt's lips brush his ear. "Please keep going."

It's barely more than a whisper, but it feels like it's punching the words out of him. "I'd wait for you," Puck says. "I'd want to come when you're inside me."

Kurt's groan vibrates over Puck's skin and it makes him shiver. His hand on Kurt's back has shifted at some point to Kurt's ass (and been joined by his other hand, like Kurt's ass is a fucking magnet), and Puck pulls him down hard, grinding them together. Kurt picks up the rhythm pretty much instantly, panting against Puck's throat.

"You'd get your dick in me, just a little bit at first," he says. "And I'd be losing my goddamn mind 'cause it feels so big, like it's too much and I don't know how you can take it so easy every time--"

"Practice," Kurt mutters, and Puck can feel his grin against his throat. He slides one hand around to work at Kurt's pants.

"You'd keep going, though. Slow but all the way in, you wouldn't stop, just make me take it." Kurt's pants finally give in, and Kurt pulls back just enough so Puck can shove them down his thighs, along with his underwear. "It feels so full and hot all over like I can't breathe, and I. I'd try to talk and you'd put your fingers in my mouth, make me suck them, get all in me. Fucking taking me."

He can barely hear his own voice now. He definitely can't open his eyes. When he wraps his hand around Kurt's dick, Kurt's whole body shudders hard.

"Don't stop," Kurt says. His hips work back and forth, between Puck's grip on him and Puck's other hand on his ass, which is sliding between his cheeks and teasing. "Please don't fucking stop. _Puck._ "

"You could fuck me hard." He can't stop. He couldn't if he wanted to. His hands and his hips and his mouth are like some kind of machine, some jacked-up assembly line from a cartoon that just keeps going until it gets to the deathtrap at the end of the line. "Last time you were so careful and you didn't want to hurt me and I don't care, you can do it hard, you can do what you want."

Kurt's just moaning now, all out of words. Red all the way down to the top of his chest, where Puck can see it above his shirt, and probably below. When Puck slides a fingertip over Kurt's opening, the sound he gets back is practically a yell. Kurt's dick twitches hard in his hand and Puck knows exactly how close he is. He wants to say something, keep going and say the exact right sexiest last thing to push Kurt over the edge. But he's out of words too.

So he just strokes Kurt a little faster, rubbing his thumb firmly over the tip in the way that's usually too intense for Kurt to take unless he's about to come. He presses his other finger inside of Kurt just to the first knuckle, twisting and rocking it, and it all takes about twenty more seconds before Kurt's coming loud and hard. And biting the shit out of Puck's neck while he does it. Maybe he does have a secret vampire fetish.

As soon as Kurt's done, Puck takes his hand off his dick--Kurt really hates being touched too much when he's still raw--and wipes it on the sheets. He caught most of the mess, but there's probably some on his own shirt--and just as he finishes the thought, he looks down to see Kurt licking it up, just a few drops, with his wet pink tongue darting out like a fucking cat going for some cream. It kind of destroys Puck's mind.

Then Kurt crawls back up and kisses him hard, and Puck barely has time to get his head straight and start kissing back before Kurt stops and pulls back enough to look Puck in the eye.

"Thank you," he says. His voice is low and intense. He's so not talking about the handjob.

And Puck doesn't know what he's supposed to say here--"you're welcome"? "Your turn now"? "Whatever shit you don't want to tell me about can't possibly be any more embarrassing than that"? Puck may be world-class at dirty talk, but the stuff you're supposed to say _after_ always messes him up.

Happily, he doesn't have to say a damn thing, because Kurt's already slid back down and gotten Puck's pants open and started sucking his dick like a fucking champ. He's going at it like getting Puck's cock down his throat is going to win him a gold medal. Like he'll die if he doesn't. When Puck winds his fingers through Kurt's hair and tugs--he doesn't try that a lot, it's as likely to make Kurt scowl as moan and there's no way to tell which it'll be--he swears to god Kurt fucking purrs.

 _Jesus._ Puck holds on tight and loses track of everything while Kurt takes him apart with his tongue. It's pretty much the most amazing blowjob ever--and Puck knows what he's talking about, here.

He comes quicker than he expects, just as Kurt pulls back to breathe and gets it all over his face. Which is actually something Kurt's told him not to try--one of those "don't get any ideas" lectures that inevitably devolve into more sex--but when it happens (on accident, honestly, Puck's not that much of a douche) Kurt just jerks in surprise and turns deep red again, shivering a little as his tongue flicks out and his eyes flutter closed. Puck feels his dick twitch like it's trying _really hard_ to come a second time. Because seriously, holy fuck.

"Sorry," he manages eventually, and shucks off his t-shirt for Kurt to clean himself up with.

"I understand," Kurt says, making a dramatically put-upon face that he can't really pull off with jizz streaked across his eyebrow. "I was just too hot for you to control yourself. It's my curse, really."

He balls up Puck's now-kind-of-disgusting shirt and tosses it in the general direction of the hamper. Puck wants to tell him, _yeah, you were, you always are,_ but he can't think of some other less lame way to say it. Instead he just leers, and Kurt laughs, and they finish undressing slowly, lazy and warm. It's not until Puck's brain settles down enough for him to have real thoughts again that he realizes his original plan has sort of fallen by the wayside, and possibly been run over by cars.

The finesse approach led to some mindblowing sex, so he can't call it a failure, but somehow "find out Kurt's secret and probably awesome fantasy" turned into "tell Kurt your secret and incredibly unnerving fantasy that's been freaking you out and getting you off in equal measure for almost three weeks now," and he still doesn't know the first thing about what he set out to learn.

Puck's pretty sure that bugging Kurt about it now would ruin the moment and also be kind of a dick move, but dammit, he wants to _know._

As it turns out, though, he doesn't even have to ask.

"You wanted to know if I have any fantasies," Kurt says. He doesn't feel tense, now. He feels like a damn noodle, the way he always does after sex, and his voice is almost totally steady.

"Yeah." It seems like a good idea to wrap his arm around Kurt and pull him closer, so Puck does, and Kurt kind of melts into him.

"I meant it, mostly. When I said that I don't. Well, implied," Kurt says. "I just--I always knew I wanted guys, of course, but I didn't know what I _wanted_. And by the time I really started thinking about sex, I was in middle school and I'd stopped having friends, because an eight-year-old can rock 'femme and fabulous' sometimes, if his parents don't let him push it too far, but twelve-year-olds will pretty much kill you dead for that stuff."

His voice is still calm and regular, like he hasn't gotten to the hard part yet, like he can just say "stopped having friends" and it doesn't mean anything. Like he's not saying all this to one of the twelve-year-olds who would have killed him, if he'd known him. And it's not like Puck's shocked, or anything, that a kid like Kurt was the bottom of the heap from pretty early on. It's just weird to hear Kurt talk about it like it doesn't even hurt him.

"The point is," Kurt continues, "I didn't have crushes on anyone, and I didn't get close to anyone, and--I didn't have unfiltered internet access yet." He grins, and Puck snorts. "So the only things I had to pin all the confusing sex feelings on were, like...male models in Vogue ads."

"You still treat that magazine like porn, you know," Puck says. "I think it warped you."

"I figured out the mechanics," Kurt says, ignoring him, "mostly from the library, and there was this old copy of Our Bodies Ourselves in the attic, which is about women, but I sort of translated all the hetero diagrams to how it would be with two guys--"

"That is so messed up," Puck tells him. Because seriously, what the hell kind of sex education is that for a kid feeling his first stirrings of wanting to take it up the ass? It was a wonder Kurt had ever been able to find his own dick.

"Well, that was around when my dad let me get my own computer in my bedroom," Kurt says, "so, you know, porn helped with the rest."

"Porn is magic," Puck agrees. He's kind of wondering what any of this has to do with Kurt's mysterious fantasy, but--a little to his own surprise--he doesn't mind listening.

"For a while I'd just picture whatever happened in the porn to get off," Kurt continues, "which, you know. Anonymous tabs and slots, not exactly what you'd call a fantasy. And then when I started high school--"

He stops, turning pink, and presses his mouth shut. Puck gets it, of course. The crush. Like anyone could have missed it, the way that no matter how many guys had Hummel surrounded against the dumpster, the kid's eyes always locked on to Finn. Well, maybe the other guys had missed it, and missed the way Hummel's face always softened when he gave Finn those thousand-dollar jackets to hold onto, because nobody had ever said anything before glee club got shit all turned around.

Puck had seen it, though. At the time, he'd just thought it was one more way that Hummel was a pathetic little fag who only thought he was so much better than the rest of them, that he'd fall head over heels for some guy who pushed him around a tiny bit less than everyone else.

And honestly, he hadn't thought that much about it.

"So, yeah," Kurt says, after Puck's silence drags on a little too long. "I started having, like, actual fantasies. But not really ones you want to hear, unless you do, in which case we need to have a serious talk."

"Fuck you," Puck says, grinning, and messes the shit out of Kurt's hair. It's already going every which way, but Kurt slaps his hand anyway, like a reflex. "You are so not dragging me into a threesome with Finn, don't even try."

Kurt punches his arm surprisingly hard for a guy in noodle form. "Ugh, he's my _brother_ now, don't be gross."

"We could have one with Brittany," Puck offers, and gets his arm punched again.

" _Anyway,_ " Kurt says. "I got over that, and then a few months later you and I started, so mostly, no, I just haven't had the chance to think about...other stuff." And yeah, he sounds like he's done talking, like he's gotten through his spiel and laid the question to rest.

Puck just doesn't believe him. And fuck it, he's _worked_ for this. "Mostly?"

Kurt's quiet for a minute. He doesn't tense up or pull away, but the post-sex liquidness slips away and it feels like holding an actual person again. With muscles and edges and bones.

"There's one," Kurt says finally. "It's...it's really cliché."

Well, that's not what Puck was expecting. "Cliché?"

Kurt gives a small laugh. "It's like the shared fantasy of gay men everywhere. Well, not the ones with self-respect," he adds, with another, even tinier laugh. "But the rest of us."

That's promising, but also kind of sad. Puck rolls them over some until they're on their sides and facing each other. Kurt's not quite looking at him. "Tell me about it," he says.

"It started when I joined the football team." Kurt doesn't hesitate even though he clearly kind of wants to. Like maybe he remembers what Puck just traded him for this. "And the locker room was totally not sexy, at all, not least because every second that somebody was undressed I spent with my eyes glued to my locker and scared for my life."

Puck hadn't noticed it being that bad for him. People had made jokes, of course, and a couple guys sometimes made a big show of changing in the bathroom stalls, and Finn had been the only one who was willing to hold an actual conversation with Kurt while either of them was changing. But nobody had _hit_ Kurt, almost nobody even got too nasty about telling him to keep his eyes front. It hadn't seemed like a big deal to Puck, at the time.

He says, "That sounds pretty shitty."

"It was _wretched,_ " Kurt agrees. "And then I'd go home and I'd have these--thoughts. About, like..." He stops, and his eyes flicker away from Puck's again. Then they actually close. "About if I screwed up one day, and let my eyes wander and someone got angry and called me on it. And told everyone I was checking him out, that the little queer was trying to get a free show, and maybe we should all give him what he wants."

Puck's brain freezes up. He can tell exactly where this is going, and holy shit: Kurt has a gangbang fantasy. Kurt has a locker room gangbang fantasy about the McKinley High football team. And Kurt is _telling him_ about it.

"He'd shove me up against the lockers," Kurt says, "and the rest of them would circle around, so I was surrounded. And nobody's showered yet so I can smell them, all the sweat and heat pressing in on me, making it hard to breathe. Then the guy in front grabs my throat and asks me if I was looking at his dick, and I shake my head and everybody laughs and he lifts me up, slams me again, harder. And it hurts, and he's squeezing my throat with his big fucking hand, and I keep staring at the other guys but they're all just laughing. And nobody's going to help me."

Kurt stops for a second, takes a deep breath that shakes when he lets it out. His eyes are still shut tight. Puck pulls him closer, until their foreheads are nearly touching. He's wondering if he should say something--something encouraging, or tell Kurt to stop, or something--but then Kurt's talking again.

"He asks me again if I was looking at him, and this time I say yes, and I try to say it was an accident but he just reaches down and grabs my dick and I'm so hard, he can feel it and they can all see it, and he squeezes hard. Until I'm panting and my eyes are tearing up and he slams me back against the lockers again, knocks the breath out of me and he says--" Kurt's breath stutters, like he's actually trying to switch voices in his head. "'Is that what you like, you fucking fag?'"

Pressed together like this, Puck can feel Kurt getting harder as he talks. And that's--it's so hot, this whole thing is fucking hot, but it's also so fucked up Puck wonders if maybe he should stop Kurt after all.

Because this can't be--healthy, or good, right? There'd been a whole lecture from Finn over the summer, when Kurt had gotten back from his musical theater summer camp and it was clear he and Puck would be running into each other a lot, about the words nobody was allowed to say in their house. Finn had actually taken him out in the backyard before he'd been able to say them himself, like he thought Kurt's dad would magically appear and kick his ass if he let it slip inside.

Puck had agreed, and hadn't even made fun of Finn for being so whipped. He hadn't wanted to get kicked out of Finn's new home(or get Finn thrown out again), not when Finn had finally forgiven him and actually wanted to be around him again. Not after Finn had stepped up despite everything and kept Puck together after regionals, when Puck had been a fucked-up broken mess of feelings he wasn't supposed to have for a kid and a girl who he hadn't really lost, because they'd never really been _his_ in the first place. Puck owed the guy pretty much whatever he asked for, at this point.

Even more than that, though--getting that lecture, and the way Finn had looked at him all open-faced earnest but stubborn, like he was ready and waiting for Puck to put up a fight, had made Puck realize that he was kind of over the whole gay-panic, homo-police thing. Somewhere along the line it had stopped being fun, and turned into an empty habit that just left him bored and tired.

Plus Kurt had turned out to be an okay guy, over the past few months. He was still so incredibly gay it made Puck's eyes hurt to look directly at him, but not in a bad way. That was just his thing, and Puck hadn't realized until Finn made his speech just how long it'd been since Kurt's ultra-gayness had made him feel uncomfortable and annoyed the way it used to.

It was just familiar, now, in kind of a nice way, and Puck had found to his surprise that he didn't mind cutting "the f-word"--as Finn called it, which _was_ pretty damn whipped--from his vocabulary. He'd done it, too, whenever he was at Finn's place or talking to him, which was how he'd spent over half his waking life that summer, so pretty soon it stuck and he just stopped saying that shit. It hadn't been hard.

He's definitely never said it to Kurt since then, either before or after they started their thing. Kurt's thrown it at him once or twice, pissed off at Puck or the world or both and spitting it in his face, but not for a long time now and not like _this._ Puck's never imagined anything like this.

"He'd do it first," Kurt says, "he--you probably know where this is going." Something flashes across his face that might be a smile. "He'd make me blow him, first, force me down on my knees and trap me back against the lockers so I can't move, and he'd just...do it, fuck my mouth so I could barely even breathe. With the guys all laughing and cheering him on, calling me names..."

And then Puck thinks: _I've_ called him those things. The sudden twist in his stomach is so intense he can't even tell if it's "turned on" or "guilt." That could be him, Kurt could be talking about _him_ , maybe Puck even kind of wants it to be him. Not the part where Puck would be hurting him, but the idea of Kurt thinking about him like this-- _getting off_ while thinking about him like this, way back before Puck had even started thinking about him that way--fuck, it's hot. It's so hot it scares him.

"This is kind of fucked up," he blurts. Kurt goes rigid in his arms--and yeah, once it's out Puck knows it's pretty much the worst possible thing he could say right now. Knowing before, that's always been his problem.

"Is it." Kurt's voice is blank and flat.

"I mean, you don't--" You don't have to tell me, is what Puck means to say, because that would be supportive and shit, and he really would mean it, but what comes out is, "You really get off on that?"

"Sorry," Kurt says. "I told you it was the fantasy for queers with no self-respect." He bites off each word and his eyes are open now but his face is shut tight. It's the face he used to get after a slushie or a locker slam or someone calling him a grosser-than-usual name, when the hallways were crowded and people were laughing at him.

Shit. Shit, Puck is so lost here. The last time he got that look full-force was when he came on to Kurt for the first time, and he fixed it then by just kissing him until Kurt was convinced he wasn't being made fun of. Right now he doesn't have the first fucking idea what to do. Kurt rolls away and sits up and Puck is not panicking, because he fucking doesn't. But if he did. _Fuck._

"Wait," Puck says, "I didn't mean it like that." It doesn't come out desperate or shaky or anything--why would it--just nice, and warm, and controlled. Kurt turns and looks back at Puck.

"Then what did you mean?" Kurt says, and jesus christ, he's going to make Puck talk about it. It pisses him off, suddenly and almost violently--the way Kurt's just looking at him all cool and flat like it's Puck's job to make him feel better now, like Puck hasn't already given Kurt more words than he thought he could _survive_ , not just tonight but all the time, since the beginning.

He can't do this. He can't be this guy, this careful talks-about-feelings guy who doesn't fuck things up when he's trying to be good, who knows how to keep Kurt from getting out of bed and leaving him.

He's never been able to do that. It keeps happening but he never learns.

"I don't know," Puck mutters, into the silence.

Kurt looks away again. "I think I should go."

"Yeah, maybe," and he doesn't mean to say it out loud, really, but there it is. Because, hey, why not fuck up some more. It's kind of his way. He stares at the ceiling and tries not to listen to Kurt dressing and leaving, but there's nothing else to listen to except his own breath.

Faintly, through the walls, he hears Kurt's car pulling away. And then it's just quiet.

*

The weekend that follows is completely terrible, but not for the reasons Puck expects it to be.

It's been over a month since he went a whole weekend without sex, but he doesn't really notice that, except for how whenever he has a passing thought about something he wants to be doing with Kurt, he feels weirdly carsick. It's been a while, too, since Puck spent the weekend without talking to or even seeing anyone besides his mom and sister, and that bothers him more, but it's not like lying in bed listening to his "pissed off at everything" playlist (which he made in sixth grade, when he started needing it, and hasn't changed in years) isn't something he feels like doing anyway.

The suck of that weekend isn't even because Kurt doesn't pick up his phone--the one time Puck summons up the balls to call him--or because Puck's almost sure that Kurt will be continuing this total-ignore policy on Monday at school and for the foreseeable future. It should be but it isn't.

What Puck can't stop thinking about, though, is what Kurt's thinking, or must be. The idea that Kurt's going around believing that Puck is freaked out by him, or disgusted by him, that Puck's _rejected_ him somehow--that's what makes Puck feel hollow every time he thinks about it. And the fact that Puck let him walk away thinking that, the fact that everything Kurt must be feeling right now is Puck's _fault._ He doesn't want that kind of power, over Kurt or anyone. He's never wanted it. Important stuff shouldn't depend on Puck's ability to keep from doing something stupid.

By the time Monday rolls around, Puck's run through the playlist a few dozen times, and Sarah's stopped bitching at him about the volume and started complaining about the songs getting stuck in her head. On the way to school he tunes the radio to the eighties station and lets it play, trying to wash all the growling and wailing out of his ears and get himself out of that depressed-and-hating-everything groove. It doesn't work too well.

Puck doesn't see Kurt at school in the places where they usually cross paths, but he doesn't go looking for him either. He skips the third period English class they share, which he only ever goes to because of Kurt anyway. Puck doesn't _not_ want to see him, exactly, but he doesn't want to be there when Kurt refuses to talk to him or probably even look at him. That's going to fucking suck and Puck's putting it off as long as he can. This whole mess is their first really serious fight, or would-be fight if Puck hadn't panicked and clammed up and let Kurt take off--and weekend of moping aside, Puck doesn't feel any smarter than he did right at that moment, or any less like whatever he says will be wrong and impossible and just...he can't. That hasn't changed.

He skips lunch too, thinks about just going home and maybe getting drunk, but it seems like less trouble to head out to the field and run laps for a while. It ends up the same anyway if he pushes himself hard enough. It gets his mind clear of everything except his own hard breathing, his pulse thumping in his head and the tired burn of his muscles.

After nearly half an hour he's got an okay buzz going, but it dies when he loops back around and sees Finn standing by the bleachers, glaring at him--at him specifically, it's pretty clear. They've been cool for a long time now, and Puck hasn't done anything to fuck _that_ up, so there's only one reason for Finn to be pissed at him and Puck is so not ready to have this talk.

He didn't think he'd have to be ready, because they don't talk about it, not since back in September when it came out that he and Kurt were hooking up pretty much constantly and had maybe even moved past "hooking up" to just "being together." There was a conversation then, with Finn being incredibly confused and Puck assuring him that no, he wasn't just fucking with Kurt, no, he hadn't been staring at Finn's ass in the locker room, yes, he still liked chicks, and no, he wasn't still getting with chicks behind Kurt's back. Even though he and Kurt hadn't had the (so awkward, ultimately pointless) exclusive talk yet, but Finn hadn't looked like he'd be able to process _that_ idea, and anyway it wasn't a lie.

Since then they just don't talk about it. Sure, he and Finn still hang out just the two of them sometimes, and they talk to each other when Puck's over there to see Kurt, and if the three of them are watching TV together or something Kurt will sit next to Puck and sometimes he'll lean in against him, under his arm, and Finn doesn't get weird about it or anything. It's not like it's an issue. It's just not something they _discuss._

Maybe Kurt talks to Finn about it, now that they're official brothers. Puck doesn't ask. But apparently the other thing that comes with being official brothers is Finn noticing when Kurt's all fucked up, and getting angry at Puck about it and hunting him down to interrogate him and go all defensive big-brother on Puck's ass(even though Kurt's older than either of them, but Finn doesn't seem to care). Telling someone else what happened--even just a vague outline, since there's no way he's giving Finn any details--is even higher on Puck's list of shit to avoid than facing up to Kurt.

It doesn't look like he's going to get a choice, though. Finn jogs over to meet him before Puck can escape and corners him against the bleachers. One guy shouldn't be able to corner another guy all by himself, but Finn's kind of gigantic and he pulls it off.

"What the fuck did you _do?_ " Finn yells. He's practically vibrating with how bad he clearly wants to sock Puck in the face. Puck kind of wishes he would, because a fight--a _real_ fight--would feel so good right now.

"None of your fucking business," he says, and tries to duck around Finn. Finn does shove him, then, trips him up against the bleachers and pushes him down hard to sitting.

"Don't do that," Finn says. "Don't pull your stupid tough-guy act with me, not about this."

"Okay, first of all, it's not an act," Puck says with a smirk, which makes Finn's jaw tighten and his hands twitch like they really want to be fists. "And second, I don't know what your fucking problem is."

"My _problem,_ " Finn repeats disbelievingly, "is _you_ , and whatever you did to Kurt on Friday that messed him up so bad he won't even talk about it!"

Puck crosses his arms. "Who says I did anything?"

"I asked him," Finn says. He practically spits the words out. "I asked him if it was something you did and he said no, and you _know_ he can't lie for shit when he's upset."

Puck does know--there've been a few bad days, and a bad _week_ when the shit went down with Kurt's dad--but he never pushes it when Kurt says he's fine. Kurt doesn't push him either. That's how they both want it.

"So he's getting his drama on again," Puck says, keeping his voice light. It comes out easily. "You plan on flipping out at me every time that happens, you're going to have your hands full."

The way Finn's eyes flash makes him want to swallow the words back as soon as they're out. Puck braces himself for the hit, because he knows what Finn looks like right before he swings.

It doesn't come. "He cried on me," Finn shouts, "okay? And not--wedding crying, or sad movie crying. For _real._ I thought he was going to throw up, it was scary as hell."

That does it, freezes Puck in place and dries up whatever dumbass thing he was going to say next. Yeah, Kurt gets teary all the time, sniffles a little in that incredibly gay and freakishly elegant way he has, but he doesn't really _lose_ it, not ever. Maybe he does with his dad, sometimes, but not around Puck, and _not_ \--he would have guessed, and it seems like he was right--around Finn.

Except he does now. He did. Because Puck hurt him _that bad._

And that thought--it's like being punched in the stomach. It's exactly like being punched, because he can't breathe and his chest suddenly hurts, not in a retarded chick-flick emotional way but literally _hurts_ like someone took a hammer to him. It's the way he felt when he walked away from Beth, or when Finn told him no at sectionals last year. The same cold-hot rush of knowing that nothing can hurt worse than this(except it always does, eventually), and it's his own fucking fault, every bit of it.

Puck's only half-aware of Finn slowly sitting down next to him, staring at him.

"What the hell _happened?_ " Most of the anger's gone from Finn's voice now, replaced by this weird careful softness that would make Puck bristle if he could bring himself to give a shit.

"I don't know," Puck says, dully. "I fucked up." That about covers it. Finn's frowning like he wants to push for more, so Puck adds, "All the details involve gay sex, okay? You don't want to know."

Finn furrows his eyebrows, clearly trying to figure out some way that gay sex could go this wrong. Then his whole face wrinkles up like he's just realized he's thinking about gay sex. Puck almost laughs.

"Okay," Finn says, after a pause. "I don't need to hear about...details. But dude, you have to fix this."

I don't think I can, Puck doesn't say. "Why do you care so much?"

Finn frowns. "Um, because Kurt's my brother, and my _friend,_ and whatever you did really hurt him?"

"So maybe I shouldn't be fixing anything. Maybe..." Puck shrugs jerkily and looks away. "Maybe I should just leave him alone."

It's not that he doesn't know what he needs to do. He does, in a detached, outside-looking-in kind of way. He said something stupid and horrible, so he needs to apologize and explain what he really meant, but if it was that easy he'd have done it while Kurt was still lying there next to him. Not the apology, he can manage that--he's not that much of a dick. The explanation, though.

Finn's voice breaks in on his thoughts. "Look, I know you and Kurt have this whole we're-not-dating thing going on where you pretend like you don't really care about each other, but everyone knows it's a load of crap, okay?"

Puck looks up sharply. "What?"

"We've all known for a _while_ ," Finn says. "You're both really happy this year, and I'm not going to say it's not weird, because it's _so_ weird, and I really thought for a long time that you were going to screw it up--"

"Wow, thanks," Puck says. Okay, that's exactly what he's done, but Finn didn't have to _expect_ it of him.

"--but it's like you're good for each other or something," Finn finishes, and given that he obviously came out here intending to beat Puck up for destroying Kurt's heart, it's pretty much the stupidest thing Puck's ever heard. "Until whatever you did to him on Friday, I mean," Finn adds, since Puck's disbelief is clearly showing on his face.

Puck shakes his head. "It's not like that. All boyfriends and...meaningful and shit. I can't--" He knows he sounds pathetic, his voice more full of naked longing than the contempt that should be there. He can't even figure out how to say just what it is he can't do. Hell, he can't even _figure out_ just what it is he can't do, aside from 'everything.'

Finn's shooting him that annoying, _knowing_ look, though, the one he started getting after regionals last spring, when Puck was a mess and knowing why wasn't exactly hard, and Finn had suddenly decided he was ready to take back his old job of being the guy who fixed him up. Puck hasn't seen that look much lately, and getting hit with it now feels uncomfortably like Finn really is seeing something that Puck didn't mean to show.

"Okay, listen," Finn says. "When I first found out about you guys, I thought you were pretending to care about him even though you didn't. And I thought that was about the worst thing someone could do, but dude--" He puts a hand on Puck's shoulder. It's dumb and girly and it's not something they do, but it's kind of nice anyway. "Pretending not to care when you really do? That's just _stupid._ "

His face is so clear and open, so totally convinced of what he's saying, and his grip on Puck's shoulder is solid and confident. He looks like no one's ever hurt him, not a day in his life, which Puck _knows_ isn't true but he could almost believe it.

He thinks about how it would feel to make Kurt look like that, someday.

"And if you don't apologize to Kurt," Finn says, taking his hand back, "I really will punch you. Okay?"

"Yeah," Puck says, "okay."

*

He takes a shower first. Kurt's not a fan of the unwashed-jock smell, unless it's caused by fucking all day without a shower break, and Puck was practically sprinting by the time Finn showed up so he's probably heading towards serious ripeness. Then he changes into one of the spare tees in his locker, and by the time he makes it out of the locker room it's ten minutes into fifth period, and the halls are mostly empty.

Puck's got plenty of experience finding shit to do instead of being in class, but right now he's not all that excited about the prospect of smoking up behind the parking lot, or sneaking into the cafeteria kitchen to steal one of those giant-ass bowls of cookie dough, or driving to that strip joint just south of town--the one that never bothers carding--and taking in a matinee.

He doesn't want time to think. If he weren't sure Kurt would never forgive him for it, Puck would just go drag him out of that stupid French class right now and say his piece. He is sure, though. Kurt _hates_ anyone making a scene around him. He hates drawing attention at all, unless he's doing it on purpose, to himself.

That was something Puck hadn't understood for a long time, back when he'd been the one dishing out the humiliation and casual violence--how Kurt had always taken a shove or a dumpster toss or even a beating (rarely, and not from Puck, but he'd seen it happen) so much easier than a slushie or some disgusting words sprayed across his locker. Getting hit always seemed to piss Kurt off, and scare him if it was bad enough, but people pointing and laughing at him made him freeze up and shut down and look like he was trying to kill himself by sheer force of will, right there in the hallway.

Puck had thought that was pretty backwards. After all, anyone who went around dressed like that and acting like _that_ clearly wanted to be noticed. When Puck joined glee and learned that Kurt was a major diva and a complete attention whore, his attitude made even less sense. He should have been used to people staring. It seemed like the only thing he really wanted.

After Puck took a slushie himself for the first time, things started to come clear. Public humiliation, it turned out, was way worse than a punch in the face. He'd sworn off slushie attacks from then on, but it had taken him a while longer to really understand why someone who'd rather be kicked around than stared at went after the spotlight so hard.

He gets it now, of course. He gets _Kurt_ now. At least he did until three days ago.

Puck ends up out behind the parking lot after all, not getting high but scrolling through old saved texts from Kurt. Half of them aren't even sexts. It's the most unbearably pathetic twenty-five minutes of his life.

*

When Kurt gets out of class, Puck's waiting for him by the door. Kurt meets his eyes for half a second--obviously without meaning to--then turns on his heel and starts walking away.

Puck falls right into step with him. "I need to talk to you."

He can't help staring at Kurt, trying to find some sign of the mess Finn told him about. There isn't much to see. The outfit's a little on the crazy side even by Kurt's standards, especially compared to the more relaxed style he's been working for the last few weeks. Puck's pretty sure he can see three separate collars on this shirt, not to mention the straps. And Kurt's holding himself differently, too, his whole body so brittle it looks like he might shatter if you poked him too hard.

But that's all there is, and there's nothing on his face. It's just blank and empty.

"Too bad," Kurt says, and speeds up. It's the moment Puck's been hiding from all day, and yeah, it sucks exactly as much as he thought it would.

"Will you just listen to me?" His voice comes out more annoyed than apologetic, but cut him a break, this is fucking hard. He matches Kurt's stride easily. Kurt curls his shoulders in tighter.

"No." He bites the word off and Puck expects more, some kind of bitchy verbal slap, but it doesn't come. Which feels sort of like being slapped all on its own.

"I'm _sorry,_ " Puck says. "I didn't mean--"

Kurt whirls around, stopping so suddenly Puck nearly trips over him, and hisses, " _Not here._ " His face is white, like he thinks Puck's about to describe in detail for the entire school to hear just exactly what he didn't mean.

Puck holds up his hands. "Fine," he says, "look, can we go somewhere--"

Kurt's off and almost-running before he even finishes. Puck swears under his breath and runs after him, shoving his way through a knot of cheerleaders. His hand brushes over some girl's chest and he barely even notices. " _Kurt!_ "

No response, Kurt just keeps power-walking down the hall. Puck swallows down the urge to hit him with a flying tackle and keeps on shoving people out of his way, closing the distance. When he's nearly caught up, Kurt looks back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.

"Okay, you know what, enough of this." He takes a sharp left--heading for the door to the girls' bathroom, Puck realizes. "And don't even think about following me, because I will happily get you suspended for attempted molestation of whoever happens to be in there, and then maybe I can get a damn _break_ from you--"

Something inside Puck snaps, and before he even knows what he's doing he's got Kurt's arm in a tight grip as he drags him down the hallway. He's going too fast, he can hear Kurt stumbling behind him and the way his breathing speeds up like he's freaking out. He can hear the rising whispers and giggling, too, from the crowd on either side of them, and it makes him sick but he _can't stop._ There's a janitor's closet up ahead on the left, not one people usually go to for making out in because it's kind of gross and skeevy. Fine. Puck shoves Kurt through the door, then goes inside and shuts it behind him.

It's really, really dark. Puck's head is so messed up right now that for a second he can't figure out why.

"Turn on the light," Kurt says. He's still breathing too fast, but even with a tremble in his voice he doesn't sound scared. He just sounds pissed. Puck fumbles up and down the wall near the door for what feels like a long time before he finally finds the light switch.

Kurt's staring at him, pale except for two red spots high on his cheeks. "What the _hell?_ "

"I need to talk to you," Puck says again, feeling abruptly really stupid.

"So you decided to humiliate me in front of everyone and drag me into the world's most disgusting closet?" Kurt snaps. "It smells like dead woodland creature in here."

"You didn't give me much choice!"

For the second time today Puck wonders if he's about to get punched. After a few seconds, though, Kurt seems to suddenly deflate, all the anger vanishing from his body like air hissing out of a flat.

"Look," he says, sounding so tired, "I get it, okay? I made a mistake, telling you about...that. I should have known you'd be grossed out, I don't blame you, I _know_ it's fucked up. I just...got carried away." He scrubs a hand through his hair, completely ruining it. Puck's seen him do that all of two times before--once when they were having some extra-intense sexual tension just before they finally made out for the first time, and once when his dad was in the hospital.

Puck wasn't sure he'd be able to do this, but watching Kurt stand there and mess up his own hair and apologize for _trusting_ Puck, like he's genuinely sorry--that's all the push it takes.

"I was _worried,_ " he says--too loud, he kind of yells it, and it makes Kurt jump. His eyes go wide and shocked, which is fair, because Puck's pretty sure he's never said those words before in his life. He keeps going but it's like his voice is just running, and he's sitting in the back of his own head watching it happen. "I wasn't grossed out and I wasn't laughing at you, I thought it was totally fucking hot, but I was worried you were making yourself tell me something you didn't want to say just because I did it first, and you called yourself--names," he finishes, awkwardly, because the words--fag, queer--won't come out, though Puck's said them--to Kurt, even--a million times before.

Kurt's staring like Puck's grown another head and started speaking in tongues. He doesn't say a word, though. He doesn't look like he could.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Puck mumbles, and falls back against the door, sliding to the ground and covering his face with his hands. That's it. He's done. Kurt can go, this is all he's got.

After a minute Puck hears him moving, but he doesn't look up. Then Kurt's hands are on his, pulling them away and not letting go, thumbs tracing light circles over his palms. It feels nice. Puck can't focus his thoughts any more than that, so he stops trying and just watches their joined hands.

They sit like that for a while, quiet. Eventually, when he runs out of anywhere else to look, Puck meets Kurt's eyes.

"I love you," Kurt says--calm, like he's been waiting for it--and leans in to kiss him. His hands come up to cup Puck's face as their mouths meet, soft and dry and light.

It shouldn't be much of a kiss, barely even counts as one. It only lasts a few seconds before Kurt's leaning his forehead against Puck's, puffing slow breaths against his cheek. Puck holds on to him and tries to breathe around the sudden, dizzying tightness in his throat.

"You don't have to say it back or anything," Kurt says, quietly. "I just wanted to tell you."

When Puck pulls him closer, he comes easily, swinging a leg over Puck's knees to settle into his lap. They sit like that for a while, touching each other, not in a sex way but just feeling. Kurt's hands move light and slow on his chest and shoulders, warm through his thin tee, while Puck strokes up and down Kurt's back and rests one hand on his hip, where it fits. The silence feels comfortable and safe. It's like they've done something important and hard, but now they can just chill for a while before going back out into high school world, where nothing's important, not really.

Eventually, though, Puck kind of has to say _something._

"So." Okay, he has to say something besides that.

Kurt looks at him, eyebrows raised and the hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. "So?" he echoes.

Puck's mind goes blank for a second, but then he remembers something he's been wondering about, and it might not be the most sensitive question ever, but--they're good now. It's okay.

"So that thing you told me about," Puck says. "On Friday. It's really a cliché?"

Kurt looks surprised, and then he laughs, a little wild but real. "Locker room sex with straight guys is a gay porn _genre,_ " he says. "There are variations. Like--" He puts on a ridiculous fluttery voice. "''Ooh, me and this handsome but aggressive beefcake are the only ones left in the showers, whatever will become of my virtue?'"

Puck snorts. Then he eyes Kurt. "Wait, is that from porn or one of yours?"

Kurt blushes a little, not looking straight at him. "What do you think?"

"I _think_ that that's stupidly hot and you should tell me about it," Puck says honestly. "Right now. If you want to." He's totally maturing as a person.

"Hmm." Kurt tries to pretend like he's considering it, but he's shifting on Puck's lap--squirming, even--and Puck can hear his breathing speed up, just the smallest bit. He leans forward and lands a kiss on Kurt's throat, right below his jaw.

"C'mon," he murmurs against the soft skin. He licks over Kurt's pulse, feels it jump.

Kurt's fingers tighten on his shoulders. "Mm. Okay." He lets out a slow, shaky breath. "But I want to preface this by saying that I do have plenty of other sex fantasies where I'm on top. Just so you're aware."

Puck sucks on the spot he's been kissing, and Kurt makes a soft little noise and jerks his hips. Puck keeps at it until he's sure it'll leave a mark, just barely too high for Kurt to cover it with a scarf. "I'll keep that in mind," he says, and really, yes, he will. It sounds awesome.

"And you have to stop doing that, it's distracting."

Kurt doesn't sound entirely convinced, but Puck complies, leaning back and fixing an expectant look on his face. Kurt bites his lip and closes his eyes for a second, then opens them again.

"Okay," he says, watching Puck closely. Carefully, maybe. "Well. You can probably guess the general direction this is going to go. But."

He stops, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Puck squeezes him, briefly.

"I'm in the showers. And I was always careful to time it so I wasn't in there when it was busiest, and spaced myself out so I wasn't right next to anyone, but somehow, in this--this time, some guy ends up in the stall next to me. And it goes through the whole thing, the gay panic and the shoving me around and all that, and he ends up cornering me in the stall and forcing me to suck him off."

Kurt's tongue slides over his lower lip--slowly, like he doesn't even know he's doing it. Puck's hand tightens on Kurt's hip as he watches.

"And I'm, you know, naked," Kurt says, "so he can see I'm getting off on it, and he laughs and warns me not to touch myself. And the water's still going, coming down on me, and...yeah."

Puck lets out a long breath. "Damn."

"Uh. Yeah." Kurt laughs, low and quiet. "I swear that's the last one of those I have, though."

It's quiet for a minute. They're both turned on after that, but Puck knows they're not going to do anything about it, because seriously, they're in a freaking janitor's closet and Kurt's barely letting himself touch the floor, which to be fair is disgusting. Also Puck's pretty sure the door doesn't even lock.

So they just sit there--Kurt mostly on top of Puck, Puck on the sticky floor--and breathe. Puck's hand on Kurt's back traces little mindless shapes while he thinks about Kurt naked and wet--which is counterproductive to the whole not-having-sex-right-now idea, but he can't exactly not think about the picture Kurt's painted. On his knees, mouth full of cock and _so_ hard for it. Fuck.

"Hey," Puck says. "You want to do it?"

Kurt looks at him like he's crazy. "This door doesn't even lock."

"No, I mean your fantasy, about the showers. We could like, act it out. If you wanted to," he adds, because Kurt's face is suddenly really hard to read. His mouth is doing 'horrified,' but his eyes are all dark and interested.

"In the _locker room?_ " Kurt's voice slides up so high it could probably crack glass. And Puck's about to tell Kurt that actually he'd been thinking of that gigantic private bathroom Kurt's got at his place, but he can't resist.

"We could totally sneak into the gym showers after practice. I know where to get the keys." He keeps his face perfectly straight. "If you're really attached to the idea."

 _Perfectly_ straight. Kurt's staring at him like Puck just suggested they get married in matching wedding dresses. Sheer horror and brain-twisting confusion, mostly, but also--Puck would totally swear to this--kind of like he wants to kiss him. Which...is probably exactly how Kurt would react if Puck suggested matching wedding dresses. He's really got to get that image out of his head now.

(He's pretty sure he could make it look hot.)

"You," Kurt says, sounding strangled, "oh my god, you're _serious_ ," which is when Puck starts laughing and doesn't stop even when Kurt punches his arm really kind of hard.

"I don't know why I even like you," Kurt says, once Puck gets his snickering under control. He's totally smiling, though. It makes Puck feel all warm and stupid inside.

"Because I want to have hot kinky gay roleplaying sex with you," he says easily. "In your bathroom at your _house_. You could fit like eight people in that shower."

"Oh." Kurt turns red. Like, everywhere. " _Oh._ " And they'd both been starting to cool down, but Kurt's still on his lap and Puck can feel him getting hard again.

He slides his hands to Kurt's ass and pulls him in tighter, smirking. "So that's a yes?"

"Yes," Kurt says, instantly. His hips twitch forward and he scowls. "We're not doing this here."

"We're totally doing this here," Puck says. He squeezes Kurt's ass and gets an awesome shudder in response. They're _totally_ doing it here. "Come on, it's been three whole days and I know you hate jerking off in the bathroom at school."

"I fail to see how this is any better."

"Oh, dude, is that a challenge?" He palms Kurt's dick through his pants--which are stupidly/amazingly tight, as usual--and Kurt thrusts into his hand and draws in a sharp, loud breath. "You know you want it."

"Of _course_ I want it," Kurt pants, not even trying not to grind down now, "when do I _not_ want it, I'm _seventeen,_ oh god I can't come in these pants."

"Not a problem." Puck goes for the zipper. He can still barely get his hand inside, though. "Okay, lift up a second. Fuck, how do you walk in these things?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Whatever, you love them. Be careful, it took months to find these on eBay in my size."

Puck's pretty sure that damage to the wardrobe is the one thing that would make Kurt actually stop at this point, so fine, he's careful as he peels Kurt's pants and boxer-briefs down to his knees. When he gets Kurt in hand, though, and Kurt lets out this shaky low groan and jerks up hard into his grip...careful can just go fuck itself. He drags Kurt closer, tipping him forward, and pushes his own t-shirt up so Kurt's half fucking his hand and half rubbing himself off against Puck's bare skin.

It's fucking amazing to watch Kurt just going for it, the way he keeps biting his lip and then losing it and moaning anyway. He's got one hand on Puck's shoulder, the other planted on the door, holding himself up, and his ass is pressed right up against Puck's increasingly trapped hard-on, rolling back and forth as he thrusts.

"God," Puck says, "I wish I could fuck you right now."

"Oh--"

"Yeah." He gives Kurt's ass one last squeeze, then slides his free hand up Kurt's side and over his throat. Not too tight, just holding him there. "Just like this, with you all spread across my lap, riding me."

"Please," Kurt mutters, staring at him with wide dark eyes. "Please--"

"I'd do it right now if I had anything with me. Just slick up my cock and pull you down on it."

" _Please_ ," with that hurt twist in his voice that means he's about five seconds from coming. Puck pulls him in the last few inches and kisses him through it.

He also makes sure not to get any jizz on Kurt's shirt, because he's awesome like that.

Kurt's afterglow lasts about eight seconds, which is exactly how long it takes him to notice that his naked skin is touching the closet floor. He scrambles to his knees like he's on fire. "Oh my god, this is disgusting. I'm going to have to shower with Lysol. For _hours._ "

Puck spots a roll of paper towels conveniently within reach--there are advantages to getting it on in a supply closet, apparently--and grabs a couple sheets to wipe himself off.

"You're not going to wuss out on me now, are you?" Puck says. "Because I'm pretty sure I'll actually explode if you don't do something." He gives himself a squeeze through his jeans, even though he's so hard it kind of hurts, but the way Kurt can't tear his eyes away from his dick is giving him such a rush. "Like, I might _die,_ " he adds. Just to be clear.

"I am absolutely going to do something," Kurt promises. "As soon as I get my pants on."

"That's kind of backwards," Puck feels compelled to point out. He does like watching Kurt wriggle into his tight pants, though.

Kurt zips himself up and Puck's reaching for the buttons on his own jeans-- _finally_ \--when Kurt suddenly freezes, then grabs his man-purse-thing and starts rummaging around.

"Dude," Puck says, meaningfully. "You can fix your hair in five minutes, okay?"

"Crap." He's looking at his phone. This is not promising. "We've been in here almost thirty minutes, I have to go."

"You can skip class," Puck tries. "You're like...never absent, it'll be fine."

Kurt shakes his head as he stands up, and Puck has to give him credit--he looks really, really disappointed. "We were supposed to turn this paper in at the start of history class today--she won't take it late and if I get a zero it'll ruin my whole grade. I can probably convince her to accept it if I get it to her before class ends, though."

Puck sighs, getting to his feet. He gets why Kurt's so obsessed with his grades--he's got more reason than just about anyone else at McKinley to want a ticket the hell out of this town--but still. "You're seriously going to do this to me?"

"I'm really sorry," Kurt says, and he sounds so miserable Puck has to give up the guilt trip.

Besides, he's got his own afterglow still going, blue balls or not. Thinking about what Kurt said, replaying the sound of the words in his head--yeah, it's pathetic. It's emotional and _weak,_ and it makes Puck feel better than anything else ever has. Better and safe and sort of light inside, like he's filled with helium or something.

Like he can relax, just for a little while. And Puck doesn't really care what a lame-ass girl it makes him.

"Whatever." He shrugs. "Unlike some people, I'm completely cool with jerking it in the men's room."

Kurt laughs. "I'll make it up to you tonight," he says, then looks suddenly uncertain. "If--can I come over?"

The question throws Puck a little. It's been a while since Kurt's _asked_ , rather than just inviting himself over and announcing his plans. Now he sounds like he thinks Puck might actually tell him no. And he looks--his face is wide open, nothing like the frozen blankness of half an hour ago, and Puck can see everything. The tightness around his eyes, the wariness and steel behind his smile, and beneath that just Kurt, all of him, who loves Puck and is maybe just as fucked-up and lost as him.

Just as confused but so much braver, and Puck's not ready to say it yet but he'll get there. He wants to get there.

"Like you have to ask," he says, and grabs one more kiss before opening the door.

He wants to tell Kurt everything.


End file.
